


The First Time

by Delphi



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Loss of Virginity, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-04
Updated: 2010-08-04
Packaged: 2017-10-10 22:55:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/105316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Delphi/pseuds/Delphi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He told Mr. Filch he was a virgin..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Time

**Author's Note:**

> Contains reference to the past sexual assault of a child. Written for Kink Bingo 2010. Kink: _Virginity/Celibacy_

He told Mr. Filch he was a virgin, as if at sixteen he was untried and desperate instead of bored and up for it. Lying was part of the fun anyhow, and he enjoyed being taken for a natural in things at which he was secretly well-practised.

Mr. Filch wouldn't be talked into fucking him over the office desk but insisted on his bedroom—a cramped little room that smelled of cleaning solvents and pipe smoke and cat. The lighting was low and the air warm as Severus was slowly undressed, unwrapped like a parcel. Mr. Filch's big, callused hands touched him like he was made of spun glass, too softly, too carefully.

Severus squirmed impatiently, but Mr. Filch wouldn't be hurried, not for five minutes or ten or twenty, not even with his fat prick jutting out red and eager and his breathing coming in hard, panting gasps.

"Hurry up," Severus complained, or tried to, but all that came out was a tongue-tied mumble as his nipples were sucked again, his prick stroked, his thighs squeezed.

He felt as he had the first time: twelve years old, drunk on sour wine in the common room, the party spinning as his hand was guided into Lucius Malfoy's robes. But he wasn't drunk now, and still the room tilted around him, and the tense excitement built higher and tighter and higher again in his loins as if he were once again too young to even spend and wanting was all there was in the world.

He reached out, but Mr. Filch gently caught his hands and pushed them away, and at that touch he toppled over, arching up and coming so hard that he shook. A wretched, stuttering moan slipped from him as Mr. Filch's fingertips followed the path of the mess from his twitching prick to the splatters across his chest, rubbing the pearly dribbles into his skin before leaning in for a taste.

"Shh," Mr. Filch said, his hot mouth and stubbled cheek beginning the torture all over again. "S'all right, s'all right. I got you."

* * *

He was going to be sacked. He knew it the moment the boy looked at him, but Christ Almighty, how was he to say no?

Severus Snape, in his bed. Severus Snape, all of sixteen, with his skinny limbs and spidery hands and blushing cheeks, all eager and waiting for his very first time.

Argus was gentle with him; of course he was. He was a sour bastard and not much else, but he wasn't a cad. He took his time, all the time he could, making the boy moan and stutter and clutch at the sheets. Salve on his fingers, half the jar of the stuff he kept for his hands, and one finger at a time easing into the boy's tight little arse.

"Christ," he muttered, fingers stroking slickly in the wicked heat. "Don't even know if it'll fit..."

"It—" the boy said, then broke off, feverishly running a hand over his own face. He was hard again, his cock glinting with Argus's spit and his belly marred by the half-moon marks of his own fingernails. He twisted like a snake, restless and hungry, and then he was bending himself almost double, legs over Argus's shoulders.

Getting everything and all lined up right was trickier than it looked, especially when the boy kept wiggling, pushing closer with soft, hot mewls. He grasped his cock and pushed against the slick little entrance that had already closed up tight as a drum. He scarcely dared force it, but then the boy arched against him and he was pressing in, swallowed up in the heat and pressure of it until his head spun.

There he held still, almost trembling with the effort of it. "All right?" he asked desperately, trying to sort out pain from pleasure on the boy's tense face.

A moan and a greedy push of the hips were the boy's reply, and with a rush of relief, his own hips answered. The bed creaked under them, echoing the boy's soft cries on every thrust. They clutched and scrabbled until the boy was crammed up against the headboard, holding on for leverage and meeting every slamming thrust halfway.

He could feel the boy's cock trapped between them, hot and twitching—felt him kick at his back and tighten around him with a full-throated moan, felt the hot spurt against his stomach—and then he was spending with a shocked bellow, face buried in the sweat-soaked crook of the boy's neck as he rode through it, still thrusting, never wanting to stop.

He was going to be sacked, that was his last clear thought as the boy melted sweet and sighing against him. But God, at least now he finally knew what all the bloody fuss was about.


End file.
